Rich took the joint and appraised it. “Nice and tight.”
“That’s what he said,” Olly blurted out.
Rich’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red. Ginger people blushed easily, it seemed.
Sandy stomping back broke the awkwardness. She carried a blue plastic tumbler in one hand and a rectangular box in the other. “Look what I found,” she said, holding up and shaking the box. “Monopoly, Walking Dead edition.”
The night went delightfully downhill from there, with booze, pot, Monopoly, and eventually pizza. As the least hammered member of the group, Olly met the delivery guy in the driveway and tipped him well. The guy gave Olly a knowing smirk before driving away.
The next morning found Olly on the couch, cocooned in a sleeping bag Rich had given him the night before. He was wearing only his undies and a morning wood. Taking a deep breath, he thought he could make out Rich’s masculine scent on the bag. He rubbed his hand to his cock.
“Good morning.”
Fuck! Olly jolted as if hit by electricity. Sticking his head out and wiggling around, he saw Rich sitting on the floor—fully dressed, thank God.
The pizza box was open on top of the cooler, and Rich held a half-eaten slice of cold pizza in one hand. “Breakfast of champions,” he said, brandishing the slice. “Want some?”
“Mmm…sure.” Olly needed to kill time till his erection went down. He couldn’t possibly get out of the bag in his current state. As he sat up, the sleeping bag slipped off his shoulders. He picked a slice from the box. His stomach rumbled at the arrival of congealed cheese and cold grease, but it settled. Fortunately, he hadn’t had too much to drink. Not as much as Rich or Sandy. “How are you doing?” he asked.
Rich shrugged. “Headache. Took pills. I’ll live. Actually, I slept better than in ages.” His gaze seemed to slip to Olly’s now naked chest but swiftly moved on.
“Sandy?”
“She’ll be out till noon. Lightweight. Interesting necklace,” he added, holding his gaze on Olly’s neck.
Olly touched the fang. “A charm to keep evil spirits away. What time is it?”
“Nine thirty-ish.” Rich finished his slice and wiped his fingers on his pants—he was wearing his paint-splattered work jeans, Olly noticed. They were worn and ripped at the left knee, showing skin and reddish-blond hair. “This is for you.” Rich lifted a bundle from his lap and placed it on the couch next to Olly, who spied a towel, folded T-shirt, and a toothbrush still in its original packaging on top. “You know where the bathroom is.” Rich clambered to his feet and walked away, giving Olly privacy.
Olly stuffed the rest of his pizza into his mouth and took off to the bathroom. He took a speedy shower using the toiletries he found—they must’ve been Rich’s. Once he toweled off, he debated whether to put his dirty briefs back on. In the end, he shoved them into his pocket and went commando. The T-shirt was a girl’s, probably Sandy’s, but a good fit on him. It hugged his chest nice and tight.
In the middle of all this, he remembered why he’d come here in the first place. Rich’s room was right next to the bathroom and half-open, so he cautiously poked his head in. Rich was lying back on the mattress, reading a book. “Can I talk to you for a moment?” Olly asked.
“Okay.”
Olly stepped inside, closed and locked the door behind himself, just in case. Rich watched him wordlessly, and if Olly didn’t know better, he would have thought it was panic in Rich’s eyes. “We need to look at the DVD again.”
“Huh?” Rich’s expression morphed from alert to puzzled.
“You know the one with Sandy? From the blackmailer?” Olly whispered.
“Oh, of course. Why?”
“I have an idea, but I need to take another look.”
Rich got up, lifted the corner of his mattress and pulled the DVD from under it. His laptop was already there, so he put it on top of the mattress and booted it up. They both knelt on the floor.
When the clip got to the part where the camera flipped toward the crew, Olly paused it. He whipped out his phone and did a quick Google search. Pay dirt. “Yesss!”
“What is it?” Rich asked impatiently.
Olly pointed at the screen. “See that guy? His baseball hat—it has BJ Studios on it. Brian Jones Studios is a producer of quality adult entertainment. They have an office in North Hollywood.”
Rich’s expression lit up with comprehension. “Ah! Somebody who works there could be the blackmailer.”
“It’s a starting point,” Olly agreed.
“Well, let’s go.”
“Wait. Email me the clip first.”